Ok, let’s be real: it began as a bet. Well, more of a dare really. I was out having dinner with my editor Michael and as you do when you put two intoxicated suits in a room together with a bottle of red wine, we started talking about high street retailers.
I’d just finished launching one of my weekly newsletters about unconventional places to shop menswear and as usual when doing this kind of work had gone off on one of my many rants about how people were too focused on chasing trends when the classics they needed were hiding in plain sight. He’d leaned back in his chair, eyed me over the top of his glasses and scoffed “Like where?” Probably waiting for me to shut up. “M&S.” I shot back. Swinging for the proverbial stylistic fences with the absolute certainty of a guy on his third glass of Malbec. “Marks and bloody Spencer.” He nearly choked on his risotto. “You wanna tell me you – Mr.Having-Strong-Feelings-About-Button-Placement-On-Shirt-Cuffs – do your own shopping at Marks & Spencer?” Oh.
God. “You reckon you could wear stuff *exclusively* from M&S for an entire month?” He challenged, eyebrow raised. “All clothes. Tops, bottoms, underwear, you name it.
For four whole weeks.” I probably should have stopped there.
Should have grabbed my coat and left before what was undoubtedly about to be said escaped his lips. But rather than bailing, asinine amounts of alcohol and testosterone coalesced in my body, and before I knew what was happening, I heard my voice cheerily respond “Not only could I I do it, mate, I bet you no one would even realise.” Well. Shit.
I woke up the next morning hungover and wishing very deeply that I could take back things I had said when drunk the night before. My phone buzzed. There was an email from Michael with subject line “Fight me”.
Inside, it read: “Can’t wait to see your M&S piece. 1200 words. Due one month from now.” And just like that I was doing a whole month of wearing nothing but Britain’s most dependable – and let’s be honest: most middle-aged – retail emporium.
The rules: I couldn’t wear anything outside of Marks & Spencer. Everything I wore had to come from their extensive collection of clothing. One stipulation; it had to be from current season.
I could not dig through their closets for vintage finds or visit their charity shops in search of lucky-score pieces. Item number two: I was allowed to keep my own shoes and accessories. If there’s one thing I will never skimp on, it’s shoes and bags.
Dropping two grand on a new wardrobe for one article is not something I’m willing to do. But I make my own rules so I figured that allowed me to cheat a bit. Besides I rationalised, everyone does that!
Shopping isn’t wanting something new and then immediately incorporating it with your old clothes. I would be allowed a budget of £500. About how much an average person might spend on updating their wardrobe… I began day one perched atop a stool in the menswear department of the Marble Arch branch of M&S.
It was the first time I’d willingly allowed myself to be clothes shopped by my mum since I was approximately 12 years old. And not without reason: The lighting, the racks, the uncomfortable benches to sit on while you try things, even the softly playing radio station (was that Radio 2? It sure as hell sounded like Radio 2) and of course, the predominate colour palette of – what’s the word I’m looking for? “Smart-casual slacks”.
It felt like capsule wardrobe of my childhood. I pulled up Google Chrome and opened a new doc. I had devised a plan.
I would need office-appropriate clothing for meeting days and writing days. Casual clothes for weekends. Something for going out.
Gym gear. Pretty much everything. I started grabbing things off the racks.
Hangers clattering against each other in my maniacal mission for an entire month of clothes. Discovery number 1: M&S have upped their game since the last time I earnestly browsed their racks as a teenager. Aside from the same selections of saggy-dragging joggers with elasticated “active waist” – clearly the go-to trousers for dudes that don’t exercise and don’t care about how their clothes fit – they had lots of things I actually recognised as wearing to work and about town.
Slim-fitting chinos that didn’t look like I gave up. Merino knitwear that came in colours other than navy, grey, and that particular shade of Ken Dodd-red that only older British men wear. Pulling stuff off racks and into my lap, I started to build.
Two pairs of smarter trousers – Navy and olive. Two Oxford style shirts. Some really nice knitwear.
And then it happened. Skimming through the selection of unimaginatively named “unstructured blazers” I came across it. It was perfect.
Off the rack, it wouldn’t look at home in M&S. Just a well-cut tailored jacket. With the M&S tag ripped out, I might even be able convince myself – or someone else – that it cost more than £50.
Score. Total Spent so far: £327. It was nearly two weeks in and I had a meeting with a fairly high-end brand PR.
I decided this was as good a time as any to really test out my new M&S-found wardrobe. I wore the navy M&S Collection unstructured blazer (£99), a baby blue Oxford shirt (£29.50), M&S navy chinos (£35) and my own loafers and vintage Rolex. I opted to get to the office a few minutes early and found a seat at the coffee shop across the street from their building, half-curiously eyeing her as she arrived to see if she’d notice my uniform. “What did you do to your hair?” She laughed as we sat down and ordered our coffees.
I chuckled along. There had been no haircut. “New jacket?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as I nervously chuckled again. “Yeah,” I replied. Ok, so maybe that hadn’t gone as well as planned. “It’s nice.” She continued. “Aren’t you a bit….arket?” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “Oh god, no!” I replied, leaning forward slightly. “M&S!” I exclaimed.
Her eyebrow rose so high I legitimately thought she might stroke it off. “Are you serious?” She asked. “It really does! Like!” She laughed. Mission accomplished.
Truthfully, getting dressed for work was easy. Really surprisingly easy. Part of me feels like I need to justify how wearing head-to-toe M&S for a whole month wasn’t tantamount to professional hara-kiri but here we are.
Their shirts, particularly their Oxford style button ups were way nicer than I remembered. Cotton was good quality, cuts were alright-for-purpose if not particularly trendy, and everything appeared freshly pressed. Admittedly, nothing would turn heads – and god knows I love turning heads when I leave the house- but I also wasn’t ashamed of what I was wearing.
For someone that lives and dies by the types of jeans they wear and routinely contemplates what ratio of shirt collar should be tucked into their trouser pocket, it was refreshing to just… exist in clothes. Normal clothes. Relatively well-made, mostly fashionable, and completely unpretentious clothes.
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Casual clothes were where I struggled. A lot. My go-to weekend uniform is a pretty uniform combination of Japanese workwear, vintage denims, and really, *really* expensive trainers that send my non-fashion-forward friends into a tailspin of bitterness and intrigue each time they see me wearing them.
M&S’s offerings for weekend wear appeared to be designed by men who think “dressing down” means taking off your shirt and tie but wearing the same shirt as your office counterparts. They did jeans, sure, but they were the sad sack of retail that all try too hard to look worn-in but end up just looking like new jeans. I settled for a pair of dark, straight-leg denim that was at least well-made for £39.50, even if it lacked the character (and price tag) of my beloved Japanese selvedge.
Team this with a pleasingly soft cotton henley and their actually-quite-good khaki chore jacket and you had a convincing Sunday-best for roaming around my neighbourhood pub for pints with my mates. “Mate, what’s different?” My friend Jamie asked me suspiciously as we grabbed a drink together. Jamie has what I can only describe as a “feel bad about your wardrobe” sense of style. His knowledge of menswear is encyclopaedic and his willingness to mock my outfit choices – usually rooted in places I found before most retailers considered those areas “coolkissed” – is only rivalled by how often his own closet decisions would make me cringe. “New haircut?” He continued when I hadn’t answered his initial question.
Nope. Now well into week two, things were going swimmingly. I found myself actually liking their knitwear.
I picked up an M&S Crew neck jumper (£35) in dark green that became a fast favourite, pairing excellently with everything from I football shorts on the weekend to respecting things up with the blazer and chinos for work. At £35, it was also a bargain. It’s tough to find merino knitwear that doesn’t come from J Crew or Gran Scheme these days but even they charge at least double that.
Call me crazy, but I actually liked their clothes. The low point of the month came when I had to attend a fairly posh industry dinner wearing – what else – my M&S swag. It was utter torture walking into a room full of impeccably dressed fashion people, rocking five-figure priced-off-the-rack Italians as I proudly wore M&S from head to toe.
Again, I opted for the navy blazer, this time with a black merino underneath and M&S’s finest, darkest grey trousers. I had essentially ruined a perfectly good outfit by trying to fancy it up with my own shoes, vintage silver necklace, and nicest watch but whatever. “Keeping it casual tonight?” One of the menswear buyers I knew asked over the poulet liverkin he was annihilating. “Kind of the opposite actually,” I replied, hoping he didn’t notice my now-customary eye roll when someone not wearing custom tailored suiting tries to dress like they’re wearing custom tailored suiting. “Cleaning lines for the evening.” Yeah, nobody cares what you wear Mike Nichols, nobody. Still, it was tolerable.
And nobody said anything about my garb so.. As worn me deeper into Month of M&S, I started to enjoy getting ready each morning. Don’t get me wrong – I will never not geek out about clothing.
I love shopping. I love putting outfits together. I love making outfit playlists on Spotify and assessing what fabrics work best for each vibe I’m going for.
But after about two weeks of wearing M&S I found I stopped worrying about each individual outfit. There was something oddly liberating about being so….un-noticed. With less of a focus on “stands out-bingo” and every item of clothing in their collection being on the less fashion-forward side, I just put clothes on and went about my day.
No stressing about which avant-garde Japanese brand would best telegraph to everyone I encountered that I know what I’m talking about when I write about men’s style. No need to layer three different textures just to create enough “visual intrigue”. I just wore – clothes.
Of course, I had opinions on everything they carried. T-shirts were nice quality but cut too wide for my liking. Their jeans could really use about 2% stretch nylon mixed into the fabric to make them feel better.
And don’t get me started on the colour palette; Navy, grey, beige, green, red. *Yawn. * But overall? I didn’t hate it. And honestly?
I didn’t love it either. I just… wore it. Around halfway through month three I caught myself feeling slightly excited when I woke up each morning to get dressed.
There was something so easy about grabbing one of five shirts, one of three jumpers, one of two pairs of trousers. I could have dressed in the dark. I didn’t have to think about what I was going to wear.
I had decided what I was going to wear months ago. I suddenly found myself with 15 extra minutes each morning I used to spend staring into my closet feeling like I had nothing to wear. Life was good.
Coinciding with the final week was a heatwave that had me lustfully pouring over their summer collection. And….mmmm. Don’t get me started on their shorts.
Ugh. Where retailers like End Clothing and Rob Kerr get it almost entirely right – offering just-short-enough lengths that you neither look like a death cult member ready to chat up Jesus nor are exposing half your butt crack to the world – M&S’s summer shorts game was lackluster to say the least. Eventually I settled on a pair of beige M&S chino shorts that looked like I was about to patrol the perimeter of a wildlife photo shoot.
However, their linen shirts were actually really great. A soft lightweight number in navy I picked up for £35 that I would 100% still buy even if I wasn’t doing this stupid experiment. So what’d I learn wearing M&S for a month?
Well for starters, nobody cares what you’re wearing as much as you think they do. Not once during the entire month was someone like “Wait, is that Marks & Spencer?” about anything I was wearing, unless I brought it up myself. Second, less is more when it comes to your wardrobe.
I genuinely enjoyed throwing together outfits in the morning because I didn’t have to overthink every piece. And lastly, despite all my best efforts to pretend like I know what I’m talking about M&S probably has some stuff you should buy. Would I ever wear M&S exclusivly again?
Under no circumstances. The day I finished the month of M&S I literally sprinted to my closet to wrap myself in my dependable J Brand denim and beloved handmade Italian knitwear. I spent too long curating my personal style to throw it all out the window in favour of Marks and Sparks (Sorry M&S family!).
But that being said, have I gone back to my old ways?
Of course not. The green merino jumper I discovered during month of M&S has secured a spot in my regular rotation and will probably stay there until I’ve worn it so much that it actually *does* come from J Crew.
That blazer? Totals runs out meetings where I need to look put-together, but not “try hard”. And you better believe I’ll be plundering their underwear and socks department from here on out.
They’re fantastic and I’ve spent way more than three times what I should on equally-as-good (but far less stylish support briefs) from retailers a quarter of the price. Needless to say Michael was equal parts smug with himself and disappointed with me when I delivered this article. Proud because he knew enough about my fashion weak spots to effectively dare me into this entire saga.
But disappointed because clearly he was hoping for a more dramatic “I’m wearing REI but it’s from Primark!” story. “So what you’re basically saying is Marks and Spencer is…fine?” He asked after reading my draught with his forehead scrunched up. “Thrilling?” I offered, taking a sip of my coffee. “No fucking way is that clickable Alex.” “Well,” I started, taking another sip. “It’s the truth.” Sometimes the most revolutionary thing you can learn about menswear is that a strong foundation of classic staples is worth far more than anything trendy your favourite blogger will tell you to buy. And if I – weeks/months/year deep into yoga trousers and already begrudgingly wearing target dad trainers – can accept that; then maybe it’s time you give Mr.Andrews at your local M&S some love. Just watch out for the shorts, y’all.
Trust me.
